Highlander: the Quickening unleashed
by Sport21
Summary: Connor and Duncan are gone! but their legacy lives on in Connors grandson. the world is changing immortals are exposed and evil is growing stronger, the power of illusion, the guardian and 1000 immortals is possessed by evil. the new Highlander must protect the light and prepare a new generation. fore the ultimate Quickening will be unleashed but in the end there can be only one.
1. Prolouge

_From the dawn of time we came; moving silently down through the centuries, living many secret lives, struggling to reach the time of the Gathering; when the few who remain will battle to the last. No one has ever known we were among you... until now." Juan Ramirez_

"In the beginning this was our belief, fight to the last for there can be only one. But as time unfolded and generations continue to be born it was realised that _the one_ was revealed to be whom was deemed worthy to claim the power of the immortal source. My uncle Duncan Macleod was meant to be the one. But a new evil has risen from the shadows and a new battle will follow. I am Christopher Macleod son of John, grandson to the great warrior Connor and I am immortal and this my story; the rebooting of the gathering"

(2000)

In the Marrakesh desert a small village peacefully sat amidst the dune sea. Inside the village limits a young boy and his father sat around their dinner table, the boy was no older than 14 and had no knowledge of his potential but that would change as the winds of fate swirled and carried a storm of sand from beyond the dunes.

A stranger rode into to the village upon a camel with his face concealed in cloth his only identification was the pair of silver crosses embedded in the heels of his boots. A flash of grey glistened from the confines of his coat as he approached the door marked MacLeod's.

"Christopher eat your carrots" his father politely ordered.

The boy continued to roll and poke at his carrots leaning his head on his hand with a bored expression "I'm not hungry" he replied dropping his fork on the table and leaving the room.

"huh teenagers" the father sighed before he began gathering up their dishes all the while wondering if he was this much of pain to his father when he was Christopher's age "I should really call dad and apologise" he chuckled to himself as he slowly started washing the plates unaware that Christopher had slipped out through his bedroom window.

The house seemed quieter than it normally did, the empty halls felt chilled and haunting like death was lurking in the shadows waiting for his next victim. An eerie indescribable chill set in, the feeling of being watched clung to the hairs on the back of his neck "hello? Christopher?" he called. Nothing but emptiness and silence was his return being a cautious man ever since he was abducted by Kane a mad man hell bent on revenge against his father John quickly ran to a nearby desk and pulled a small pistol from the drawer and began making his way through the darkness of the house.

"That won't be necessary or useful dear boy" came a cold lifeless voice from the shadows.

John spun on his heels with the gun pointed at a man with slick blond hair dressed in a black trench coat "who are you?" he demanded.

The man stood unfazed even with a gun pointed at his face he stood completely calm with a wickedly evil grin cut into his face "you could say I'm an…old acquaintance of your adoptive father" he snickered. John tightened his grip on his pistol ignoring the sweat soaking inside his palms "Connor and I go back a ways, and I'm planning a surprise reunion" there was something sinister in his voice as he spoke. His words were like ice digging into John's soul this man scared him unlike any fear he ever felt before. "As for why I am here…I have a message for Connor" in a swift swing of his arm the stranger drew a sword from within his coat and cut John off at the neck. the momentum of the cut threw his head feet away from his body which toppled over the sofa and the stranger stowed his blade as if nothing happened and calmly walked over to light a candle "every soul you ever cared about I will take…and then when you are alone and begging for death I'll grant it to you" he cackled maniacally to himself before throwing the lit candle on the sofa letting it ignite and grow beyond control.

* * *

Christopher found his way to meet up with his friends shooting cans and bottles just in the desert, bullet after bullet was fired into the vast endless dune sea. Wasting time as teenagers tend to do none of them noticed the blazing flames glowing within the village they continued into the long hours of night fading with it.

The sun would rise the next day wisps of smoke glided over the sand ashes floated upon the winds as the remains of the Macleod homestead smoldered away. A crowd of people surrounded the area whispers of concern for John and his boy quickly arose. Several men scavenged through the charred foundation sifting through the remains until a headless body was discovered.

Christopher and his friends returned to the village to find the carnage and destruction that had befallen his home, a gut wrenching churning motion soon set in as the young teenager gazed upon the destruction he felt sick and the foul smell of burnt hair and flesh only worsened his state, he keeled over and started heaving into the sand the realisation had yet to sink that his father and home where gone forever.

It wasn't for another 30 minutes when he sat in his friend Kiera's house sipping on tea did Christopher finally come to terms with what happened he felt empty inside, shattered like a glass vase asking himself What if? " _If I had only stayed maybe I could have done something and this wouldn't have happened"_ Christopher kept asking himself questions and scenarios about how if maybe he could have made a difference. So there he sat with his head in his hands distraught and lost in the comfort of his best friend's home with Kiera rubbing his shoulder trying to comfort him.

Miss Zegstrea hung up the phone and returned to the living room "Chris I just got off the phone with your grandpa, he's on the next plane out…you sure you don't want me to call your mother? She'll be petrified when she hears about this and hasn't heard from you" she told him.

Chris however kept his eyes fixed on the floor, if he didn't stay focused on one target he would be dizzy and the last thing he wanted to discuss was his mother especially right now. "She left a long time ago, she lost the right to know what happens to me" he coldly replied.

Miss Zegstrea recognised his tone and quickly eased off the subject despite John being adopted Christopher had taken on many of Connor MacLeod's traits including a certain testiness about certain topics. "Ok sweetie that's your decision. You kids get some rest though you've had a rough morning why don't you stay here and just process Connor should be here in roughly 10 hours. Do you need anything?" she asked as she gently rubbed his back before leaving the house leaving the two teens alone.

Kiera leaned up against his shoulder pulling him tightly to her "I'm so sorry Chris…I can't even imagine what you're going through" she whimpered

"Thank you Kiera to be honest having you and your mom take me in is a big help" Chris replied. He wasn't lying either he truly did appreciate their kindness and having a place to hide was far better than the idea of trying to sift through ashes to salvage something of his home and the warmth of a carrying homestead did help ease the pain. Kiera kissed his cheek and went to the fridge brining back a newly opened bottle of wine.

"This might help you feel better faster than tea" she said with a wink. They sat on the couch sipping on the wine eventually succumbing to their more repressed feelings for each-other Kiera pulled Chris up onto her his hand cradled her legs and flowed up to her face cupping her cheeks passionately kissing her while her nimble hands scratched and played with his hair. Kiera seemed to have found a way to help take Chris's mind off everything for the next several hours when a man with orangish brown hair brown hair and tanned windbreaker walked in escorted by Miss Zegstrea the man seemed no older than early 30s and at first impressions none would ever guess he was Christopher's grandfather Connor Macleod.

Chris embraced grandfather he hadn't seen Connor in two years and now they would reunite because of a tragedy "it's good to see you again Christopher I'm glad to see your safe" Connor said stepping back from his grandson with a relived smile, Connor was aware of the details from Miss Zegstrea and it was because of how his son was killed that he feared for Christopher's safety; Connor sensed something dormant inside his grandson something similar to himself and anyone unfamiliar with this sense could have mistaken the two and killed John. "I know this is hard for you it is for me to but if I'm right and I pray I am not you're still in danger here…Christopher I want to bring you home to New York to keep you safe, to teach you how to look after yourself" Connor finished.

Chris looked over his shoulder back into the kitchen where Kiera, her mother and sister where sitting down to dinner thinking to himself if he could just walk away after what they just expressed to each-other an emotion Connor easily saw through "you'd be endangering her and her family if you stayed. I know you care for her and that's why you need to leave with me you must leave her son" he warned "… _god I'm starting to sound like that Spanish peacock"_ Connor laughed to himself. Chris looked back and forth to Kiera and Connor he didn't wish to leave and every fiber of his being told him to stay with her…except his heart. In his heart he knew Connor was right if he was being targeted he would be endangering her,

With a heavy heart Chris nodded "ok I'll go with you, but can I at least say good bye first?" he pleaded.

Connor nodded "it's best you do it before the funeral, that's one too many losses for one day" he told him.

* * *

The funeral was a beautiful ceremony where a lot of kind heart felt words were said about John Macleod. As the morning shifted to day people began parting Connor stood at the foot of his son's grave with a rose in hand saying his good byes while Chris walked Kiera back to her mother's car saying his own goodbyes choking on his own words with every syllable.

"it's not forever…just for now" he told her taking her hands in his looking her square in the eyes her big brown eyes locked in on his bright blue ones.

Kiera was sadden to say the least but weirdly it was almost as if she was at peace like she knew it was coming, "I never gave up on you, you know. Not really I knew if we ever did finally get to be with each other it wouldn't be forever…you're different Chris…I always knew you would leave just thought it would be later in life…" Kiera sniffled and smiled as she gave him a gentle peck on the cheek "maybe we'll see each other again but for now…I'll see you later" she sniffled as she ducked into the car and her mom drove away.

* * *

(2006)

The years passed by faster than one would assume Connor taught Chris methods of discipline and sword play to require focus and concentration 6 short years and Chris was learning his grandfather's code of Morales.

The now 22 year old was attending E.S.U as a history major, an interest he developed from living above an antique store. Connor raised Chris as if he were his own son and in 6 years Connor didn't seem to age a day until recently. Chris's uncle Duncan was visiting New York with Connor he had come from Paris so they spent the day wandering the city streets because it was reading week Chris was left to sleep in unknown to Connor he slept in awaking only to the sound of doorbell in the store.

Chris reached the bottom steps to see a much older woman looking over Connors desk at pictures "Connor are you home?" she called out.

Chris was about to speak when a massive fire ball exploded from the desk drawer the heat and massive force of the explosion destroyed everything within the apartment store the woman was consumed in fire as was Chris the last thing he could remember was an intense heat that had no rivalry short of the sun and the raining glass…then came the darkness he knew he was dead.

"Chris? Chris get up!" echoed a distant blurry voice as Chris slowly awoke in daze he could hear cackling of fire and the screaming of sirens as he finally came to he felt a pair of hands lift him to his feet "Chris get on your feet son" even dazed he knew his grandfather's voice "Duncan get him out of here! Get him safe!"

Chris felt himself being dragged through an alley way by another person and was tossed into the back seat of a car "wha...what's happening where am I?" he slurred "how am I not dead?"

"It's a long story Chris and I promise I will explain but right now we have to get you out of here before someone notices you're alive"

Chris rubbed his eyes and the hazy shadow cleared into the form of Duncan Macleod "Duncan?" he choked.

"I know this sounds crazy Chris but you're immortal you belong to a secret race of historical warriors you can't die. Son but there are dangers to what you are and in time when you're safe I'll explain everything" Duncan blurted.

"Immortal?" Chris groaned "as in there can be only one? I thought those were just stories dad told me at bedtime when I was a kid"

"Every story comes from somewhere Chris I'll help you learn what you are the same way Connor helped me"

"Where is grandpa?"

 **hey everyone hope you enjoyed the start to Highlander: the gathering rebooted as im sure you've noticed this takes place after the events of end game and soon the source but it does involve aspects of the original and the series.**

 **ive been tinkering with this idea for a while now so please review comments are always welcome and suggestions on how to improve this story let me know what you think of it please**


	2. his first quickening,

Duncan and Chris arrived at the shipping lanes Chris was still unable to comprehend what was happening he was caught in the middle of explosion that destroyed the entire building but somehow lived and being told he was immortal like the Scottish hero of the bedtime stories his father told him when he was a child seemed to farfetched. However here they stood on board a ship bound for Paris France and as he promised Duncan explained.

"I know it's not the easiest thing to take in and accept at first but in time you will adjust, you cannot die Chris by _usual_ means you can never get sick again, bullets stabbing will kill you but you'll be on your feet within minutes depending on the severity" Duncan explained.

"You mean no matter what I can't die?" Chris eagerly asked, the concept of eternal life seemed like a dream until now.

Duncan leaned against the railing with his face in the wind for a few moments before pulling away again "the only way you can die is if your head comes away from your body. You are a part of a _game_ now Chris where you will be targeted. That dizzy sensation you felt when you awoke is known as the quickening it is our power, spirit our essence when an immortal takes another's head he claims their quickening all his knowledge and memories. When only but a few of us remain we will all converge in one location for the gathering in the end there can be only one. You're now apart it, I know Connor has taught you some of the rules and how to fight but to survive you will need to learn as much as you can…I'll teach you what I can" he finished. Chris was at a loss for words as he stared at the vast blue yonder of the open sea breathing in the salty air. It felt like a new sensation breathing in new life without the subconscious fear that it would be his last the ocean spray showered over the decks but Chris couldn't completely enjoy the moment a question remained unanswered.

"Duncan where's Grandpa? He didn't follow us" Chris asked with a hitch in his throat, for the past 6 years Connor was like a father to him and like any father he was good at checking in on him. But after an explosion and a revelation Connor was nowhere to be found when Chris needed him the most.

"There was a few things he had to tie up but he'll meet us when he can" Duncan assured him. Chris just smiled believing Duncan's words but if he knew how wrong he was he might have left Duncan's side that day…

* * *

6 months later in Paris spring was arriving and with the new season a young apprentice was coming into his own light, Duncan and Chris were testing their skills in the trial of combat. Duncan was armed with his white dragon katana and young Chris was taking his turn with a pair of Chinese broad swords. Simple one hand wielded swords, doubled edged short blades that allowed for easy swift movements. There was grace and poetry in their movements it was like a combative ballet, their blades clashed and sparks showered over them "good let the blade show you its rhythm" Duncan proudly smiled at his young student. Connor had taught him very well in the beginning but in the past 6 months his teachings had accelerated. Chris followed up their brief break with a quick parry bringing the second sword up from below Duncan's eye sight which his mentor barely deflected "very clever using a slight of hand tactic…sneaky but clever" Duncan chuckled.

Duncan brought his sword to rest on his arm with the hilt hanging loosely in his hand and Chris lowered his swords so the points just hung centimeters above the floor "what do you say Duncan…can I hold my own against another immortal?" he asked with a confident grin.

Duncan simply smiled and led Chris back inside the house through what could have been an armoury, century old weapons ranging from 15th highland swords to 18th century Native American tomahawks. Simply put it would be stupid to challenge Duncan in his home immortal or not "I have no doubts you can handle yourself against a young immortal Christopher but against an immortal with centuries of experience you will have to learn different styles and switch them on the fly techniques take time to master" with those parting words Duncan exited the room.

Chris placed the blades back in their display case as Duncan switch from a track suit to a white martial arts training suit and some incense looking sticks and returned to the balcony. Right away Chris recognised a tai chi mediation ritual and when Duncan entered that mind state he was unreachable so Chris decided to go see a movie making a point to tuck a sword into his trench coat before leaving out the door.

The Paris winds were brisk and sharp nipping at Chris's face as he trekked through the hustling streets, while he was enjoying his time with Duncan Chris couldn't help but wonder what ever happened to Connor. It had been 6 months since the apartment was destroyed but Connor never got in contact with them after that, he just vanished from the world. Chris pushed past a small gang of high school kids and rounded a corner 3 blocks from the theatre when out of nowhere a tingling sensation exploded from the back of his brain like someone stuck it with a cattle prod but the sensation faded when a middle eastern man marched from out from the corner "I am Khazdin" he announced turning to Face Chris pulling a coil from his coat letting it unravel at his feet to be a whip like weapon constructed of sword shards with a proper hilt, the weapon would reach 5 feet from tip to tail.

Chris suddenly felt a hitch form in his throat as his heart raced in fear this was it his first challenge and yet he imagined a completely different reaction. "I…I am Christopher Macleod" Chris stuttered.

"Macleod? The Highlander? I must say I expected more…" Khazdin stared at Chris like he was looking at a child and not an age old warrior "you're not the Highlander I seek you only recently learned what you are didn't you?" he scoffed before casting his coat aside and retreating into the privacy of the empty forgotten building "this might not even be worth it if you have no power to take"

Chris swallowed hard to suppress the hitch he felt and likewise drew his sword before ditching his coat his fingers trembled nervously as they gripped his sword. The building was dark, moldy and consumed with spider webs. Khazdin vanished into the shadows, the hair on the back of Chris's neck spiked as thoughts of his father's death flooded his imagination wondering if his dad felt fear like this when he was murdered 6 years ago.

Chris continued to scan around the darkness poking his head just around a corner when a flash of grey stuck the wall forcing him to duck and evade the razor tip that narrowly missed his face. He stumbled backwards tripping over his feet dropping his sword when Khazdin came around the corner bringing his whipping weapon overhead and with a snap of wrist lashed at Chris, who instinctively grabbed his blade and rolled backwards in summersault jumping to his feet. This wasn't a match with Connor or Duncan this was the real kill or be killed deal and he knew he had to be capable for it.

Finding his courage Chris grasped his sword and took his stance he wouldn't run, he was the grandson of Connor Macleod the true Highlander, nephew to Duncan an adoptive decedent of the highlands of Scotland cowering wasn't an option. "I am Christopher Macleod and if you want my head you're going to have fight for it" There was iron in his words and a new strength of confidence in his voice.

Khazdin snapped his whip weapon every individual razor uncurled moments before it reached his face Chris brought his blade up in blocking motion deflecting the tip upward and away.

"So have a teacher and yet you're alone" Khazdin questioned pulling back on his weapon he was in fact curious since it was unusual for a teacher to leave their student alone knowing the risks.

"My teacher is never far" Chris lied.

Khazdin reached behind his back and pulled two silver rings, they might as well have been razor disks because when he threw them at Chris they flew like Frisbees. The first cutting him across the ribs the second sliced just above the knee cutting deep into his body with a cold sting piercing his exposed tissue. The blood flowed like a free flowing river from each gash streaking down the length of his body, not even being immortal meant he was immune to pain. "Ok learned a lesson today" Chris groaned staggering to his feet "let's try this again"

Khazdin swung his weapon and cracked it again the razor teeth clinked and chimed as they uncurled wrapping around Chris's wrist. Each tooth dug into his arm and like a chain saw tore through the flesh. The force of the pull brought Chris to his knees his left arm mangled to the point where he couldn't grasp his sword. He laid there bleeding and defeated at Khazdins mercy.

Khazdin looked down at this infant immortal at his feet, a weak power to claim but even if he didn't prove a challenge power was power he coiled up his weapon and stowed it before pulling a claw like weapon from his coat "there can be only one!" he proclaimed swinging down upon Chris's head. But at the last split second Chris's right arm jumped to his sword and caught Khazdin in mid stroke catching Khazdin by surprise "aren't you full of surprises" he exclaimed.

Chris parried the claw away and somehow against both their expectations staggered to his feet, using his sword like a cane to support his weight "like I said…if you want my head…you have to fight for it" he panted weakly.

Khazdin angrily lunged at Chris clawing like a badger while Chris weakly parried his attack, a lesson from Duncan soon came to be realised _"anger does not give you an edge; it blunts it. It disorients your focus"_ Chris looked into Khazdins eyes and saw was on the verge of anger he only needed a little push "you must be so pissed right now, an easy kill is proving to be more of a challenge than you realized" he mockingly laughed bringing his sword into a blocking position. His strength was beginning to fail him but Chris pushed through it biding his time for an opening in Khazdins technique, the blades clanged and shook on every strike. Khazdin brought his claws down creating an opening Chris needed he brought his sword up in a block but allowed the blades to fall across the top of his shoulders

"It's over boy!" Khazdin growled.

"You think so do you?" Chris choked feeling the weight of his opponent on his blade.

Khazdin looked at the position of the lock his claw was forcing Chris's blade down he would simply have to pull back and strike the boys head, whereas the boy would have to bring his sword from behind his own head "I do since I'm in control" he replied. At that moment Khazdin yanked back lifting his claws high over his head and in a slow motion he watched in horror as Chris didn't lift his sword as he originally thought instead he spun from his waist swinging the sword around squarely with Khazdins neck. The blade cut swift and true passing through its target Khazdin dropped to his knees and his head fell to the floor. Silence fell on the room an eerie presence clung to the air, like a spiritual presence had been unleashed. The body of Khazdin began to rise from the floor glowing like a star suddenly the air was sucked from the room, water pipes burst from the walls, a rouge wind swept across the floor glass shattered the walls cracked and split, bolts of lightning shot through air striking Chris sending him into a seizure like state with a new sense of life healing his wounds and instilling a surge of power accommodated by a vast new knowledge of the last 150 years. The light show passed within seconds when the dust settled Chris found himself kneeling in a puddle of water and glass shards heavily breathing, he had just experienced his first quickening but his even greater thrill he fought a seasoned immortal…and won.

After quickly running from the scene of the battle and taking time to recompose himself Chris returned to Duncan's home feeling like he was flying "Duncan! Hey Duncan guess what? I just won my first…" he trailed off as he came to realise Duncan wasn't home "Duncan?" Chris entered the dining room to find a note placed on his plate.

"Christopher, sorry I am not here in person to tell you this but I know you would have followed me. I've sought the council of a good friend after a vision broke my meditation I'm returning to New York for a while its best you stay safe in Paris, find holy ground and wait for me- Duncan"

Chris tossed the note back onto the table disgruntled with his instructions "I know this has something to do with Connors disappearance I know it!" he snapped. Chris looked at the note once more and then over to a painting of Scotland's highlander warrior statue debating whether it was a stupid idea to go home.


	3. on with the story

The summer winds travelled off the Loch creating a comfortable chill as it reached the hills of the highlands. Chris and Duncan stood at the sight of a freshly made grave made at the marking of a clan MacLeod sword. Connor was now gone, he gave his life to Duncan to give him the power to destroy Jacob Kell. Clouds floated across the vast blue skies leaving the hills clouded from the warm light of the sun. Chris gripped the ivory hilt of Connors katana under his trench coat he was angry not at Duncan for taking Connors head, he knew why he did it and that Duncan himself was crushed by the guilt. Chris was angry at Connor. Connor always taught him to never to hide and never to give up hope and yet he went and did both, he abandoned his pupil and hid away from the world.

"I'm sorry Chris. I know what he meant to you" Duncan said trying to comfort his young apprentice "but I also know how proud he was and is of you, you have potential to be the greatest of us all. Connor knew that as do I but to do that you have to learn more than what I can teach you…"

Chris swallowed hard because he knew what Duncan was saying this was their good byes.

"… This is where you and I must part ways, travel the world meet new masters and friends but always remember what you have learned don't lose your head. That sword will serve you well believe in yourself and in the fact that Connor will always watch over you and none shall best that blade." Duncan placed his hand on Chris's shoulder and turned him to face himself "I'm immensely proud of your training and no matter what I'll always be there to help you when you need me. Take care of yourself"

"I'll see you around Duncan" Chris replied trying hard to keep his emotions in check he lost Connor now he was parting with Duncan. The winds kicked up from the Loch blowing out the flames on Connors candles "goodbye Connor" Chris sniffled rubbing his sleeve over his eyes after one last hug Duncan left his side. An hour later Chris left Connors grave and wandered across Scotland. The highlands were beautiful as they always were the way the water on the Loch shimmered with the sunlight and rippled from the wind. Chris walked and walked until he came to a rustic half collapsed stone tower next to a modern day log cabin house. He was home, Connor had left him everything including what remained of the loft in New York and the disavowed Macleod ancestral home where Connor lived with his wife Heather and later rebuilt. It over looked the Loch on a cliffs edge you could see for miles around the water from the beaches to the island "thank you Connor" Chris sighed as he opened the door to his new home today had left him drained but there was still stuff to unpack. He placed Connors katana on the mantle above the fire place and his sword collection on display, 6 swords from 6 fallen immortals. He wasn't long crawling into bed and drifting into sleep.

He later awoke back in Paris at the remains of a destroyed church the ground was still scorched from what looked like a quickening. The benches were splintered and the floor littered with shards of glass and debris from the roof and walls "what happened here?" Chris asked out loud as he continued searching the remains. Something icy cold took a hold of him like his heart froze in his chest, amidst the shattered glass was a broken dragon handle and a headless body at the foot of the alter "Duncan?!"

Chris fell from his bed in a cold sweat his fingers trembling "was that…a vison? Or a really messed up dream?" he stammered.

Rattled by his premonition Chris wasn't able to sleep. Instead he took Connors sword and practiced on the cliffs over the Loch. The blade had a smooth rhythm, its movements were so fluid handling the sword itself was simple but it felt heavy in his hands like he was carrying Connors pain with it. "Duncan did say every sword has a story and every story carries troubled times" the more he swung the sword the more centered his focus became. A destroyed church, a scorched floor as the result of a quickening, a headless body and a Duncan's broken sword in the middle of it. None of it made sense Duncan was now the most powerful immortal in the world no one could match him and no immortal would dare violate the sacred rule of sanctuary on holy ground…

* * *

However back in New York City in an abandoned factory lay the headless body of Jacob Kell. From the shadows emerged a younger man, possibly in his early to mid-20s in a long cloak like jacket with a broad sword dragging behind him his face dropped when he saw Jacobs body. "Kell?" he croaked kneeling down beside the headless body "no. no. no!" the young man angrily stammered. He looked down upon his master's body angry and horrified, his master was killed but that didn't seem possible since Kell was the most powerful immortal on earth who could have beat him?

"You looking for the one who chopped his head off?"

The young man turned on his heels bringing his sword to combat height only to find a homeless man in a shabby blanket curled up beside a trashcan "what do you know of this!" he demanded.

The homeless man shuffled back in fear of the sword now daunting in his face "it was a taller man short black hair I think… one of them was called Kell and the other was something like ah… I heard the names Duncan and Connor…Macleod!" he cried.

"Macleod?" the younger man repeated. He knew that name although he hadn't seen the face of the person it belonged to in years "is it possible he said Christopher Macleod?" he asked.

The homeless man began breathing easier as the sword lowered from his face. "No the names were Connor and Duncan…but that Chris guy might be some relation"

"thank you for your service" the young man maniacally said before striking his blade through the homeless man's neck "we fight in the shadows hidden from the world…but the world will know I exist after I take back my masters power" he growled. The homeless man's head bounced along the floor as the young man turned away from the scene "I will carry out Jacobs ambition to plunge this world into darkness only with me a throne instead…I will find you Macleod and I will take your head…the rules have no place in vengeance"

 **sorry for the delay everyone but the story is finally underway with the main cast.**

 **Connor is gone and Duncan has disappeared leaving Chris on his own.**

 **Kells apprentice has sworn vengeance on Macleod and discarded the rules like his master before him**

 **(there will be flashback moments coming up to explain some unanswered questions)**


	4. the head hunter legacy

In the late hours of the night, in the New York coroner's office laid 6 headless bodies and a seasoned detective overlooking them. The medical examiner exited his office carrying several pages with a quizzical expression molded to his face "detective Kowalski you may want to see this" he suggested handing the detective one of the pages.

The detective quickly skimmed the page noticing an anomaly in the print box, the one unidentified body had no records what so ever not even finger prints or dental records "how is this possible? No records what so ever?" he asked in shock.

"Unless he was born fully grown this man shouldn't exist" the examiner explained "this is truly a remarkable discovery"

"What about the others?"

The medical examiner showed another curious expression before handing another page report to the detective. "This one is another curious case recovered blood sample from one of the collected swords… Russel Nash."

The detective's eyes grew wide at the mention of that name, a name buried in the police files since 1988 during the head hunter pandemic and again in 1995 when the head hunter resurfaced. "You said these bodies were all in mid 30s Russel Nash would be at least in late 50s early 60s?"

"That's one of the mysteries detective. If memory serves the head hunter was never caught he just vanished…if it was indeed Nash then we have a copycat killer on the loose"

The Detective looked at the medical examiner with a fearful look, "a new head hunter in New York City. The press is going to have a field day with this" he mumbled "swords…why swords in this day and age?"

* * *

Kells apprentice fitted himself with Kells boots after polishing the silver crosses on the heels. The image of Jacob Kells body still freshly seared into his memory and the homeless man saying it was a Macleod who took his head "Kell was the strongest immortal in the world nobody could have killed him not alone" he thought to himself. The young apprentice pulled a sword from Kells collection, thousands of swords collected over the centuries Katanas, rapiers, claymores and short swords were just some of the swords that Jacob collected over the centuries but there was only one that he sought, a broken 15th century hand and half sword. The blade was broken an inch above the hilt but that is what he wanted. Kell had a servant hiding in the monasteries of Italy rumored to have been the man who made Excalibur for Arthur Pendragon. He would go to the black smith and have him forge a new blade of his own design. He dawned his cloak like trench coat and concealed the broken handle inside it there was one more thing he would need before heading to Italy.

The air was muggy and had a tangy taste amidst the garbage and pollution as the apprentice waited for the bus his face in the pages of a book _the metallurgy history of swords by Brenda Watson_ , he was reading up on the history of forges he learned how the blade was made and because of Kim Gee he heard of tales of how ancient Japanese sword makers forged an evil sword by using blood of murderers to cool the metal instead of water giving the sword a dark stained blade and an evil essence supposedly making it stronger. This was his goal.

He reached the medical examiners building careful not to draw attention to himself as he strolled past police officers to the cooler Kells body was still on the table being drained of his blood and fluids guarded by two uniformed officers.

One young fresh from the academy and the other one was more of a veteran eating Chinese food "so what exactly is the deal that has all you old guys worked up over these bodies?" the younger one asked with a mouthful chow Mein. His partner shook his head with a disappointed sigh

"you kids really should brush up on some cold cases once in a while" he sighed "roughly 30 years ago New York was in a state of fear, bodies were turning up everywhere without their heads back then we didn't have the technology we have to day so with our limited resources police weren't able to find any leads on the head hunter. We had a suspect that we were looking into, Russel Nash. But an eye witness who was run through by a sword wielding maniac pointed us in a different direction another body turned up and Nash vanished but in '95 Nash was found in an asylum and another headless body turned up so again police arrested him and questioned him but we no evidence to charge him and again he walked…and again a body was discovered at the old nuclear plant Nash was never found after that" the older officer explained.

"So then why wasn't Nash arrested? Forensics used?" the younger one asked.

"No evidence and didn't have the same technology we have today"

The younger one ignorantly scoffed before eating his food again "I would have known it was Nash and just killed him claim self-defence…because as everyone knows guns beat swords"

The apprentice slowly crept into the cooler rolling his eyes at these two fools, it was clear to him that this Nash character was an immortal like himself. One step across the threshold and a faint tingle buzzed within his head, it felt like a presence of a quickening only far weaker but he still drew his short sword just in case.

"Your arrogance might be your downfall kid don't get cocky just because you carry a gun on your hip"

The apprentice raised his sword up ready to strike "good advice old timer but too little too late" he cackled.

The two police officers whipped around on the sound of the voice but were instantly met by a sword. The old man fell back against the wall after a piercing cold sting shot through his chest. The younger one fiddled with his holster scared out of his mind when the flash of steel cut through his throat spraying the walls in blood. "oh yea kid guns beat swords punk ass loser" he scoffed as he stowed his sword and began filling a duffle bag with the bags of Jacob Kells blood 10 pints of blood he packed away thinking it was enough to serve his needs. He was ready to leave when again he felt a stronger sense of the quickening, he had claimed a few heads before but of immortals served up to him by Kell or his disciples never in an actual fight. He quickly grabbed the pistol from the bleeding veteran officer and drew his blade ready for the door to open. But the door didn't open instead the younger officer slowly began stirring awake "so that was it…" he whispered to himself "the rookie was an immortal" this brought a snake like smile to the apprentices lips he could assemble his own followers and conquer the world with him as a god. "welcome back" he greeted as the young officer jumped to life his hands frantically grasping at his throat "it takes a minute to sink in I know but when you're done can we please get on with this cause I have an appointment"

"W-what…who? How?" the young officer gasped in his confused state he failed to notice his partner's body across the room.

"I'll make this quick. I killed you now you serve me there are others like us some will try to kill us others will follow us. Make no mistake I own your soul so I can kill you as many times as I'd like until it gets boring however if you fail me, cross me or betray me I'll end you permanently by removing your head…you're immortal now for as long as I allow it. Now the choice is yours serve me and live forever or die right here and I claim your power" the apprentice asserted.

The young officer was still confused by the fact that he was alive but he knew for certain he was killed his throat was still stained with his blood "I want to live forever" he told the apprentice.

"Good. My name is Ryan and I am your master welcome to the game"

 **the New York police have realised there is a copycat killer of the "head hunter" serial killer of the late 80s era and are fearful of the pandemic that it will bring to the city.**

 **Jacob Kells apprentice Ryan has set his goals for revenge and has recruited a newly risen immortal before searching for the alleged black smith who forged Excalibur for King Arthur in hopes of making him a new blade with his former masters blood.**


	5. authors note

**Authors note:**

 **to everyone one who has patiently waited on an update to this story I sincerely appreciate your support and patience (personally I would have lynched me for dropping off the way I have so truly thank all of you) but as everyone has likely noticed I've not been the most adequate author lately and for this I am the utmost sorry. you've all been great to write for and have left great motivating reviews. it was truly a pleasure to write for all of you and to read the reviews you posted for the stories. thank you all.**

 **it's no excuse but due to school and night shifts at work my time is strictly limited and unfortunately that has lead to delayed updates and unfinished stories so I'm left with what little time I can scrounge up to finish up what stories are further along and hopefully double back to the neglected ones.**


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